


say my name and every color illuminates

by 221bdisneystreet



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I'll add more tags as i go, Infinite Eyerolls, Kimi no Na wa AU, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Your Name AU, beatrice is a small town girl, body swapping, cuz again uhh spoilers, cuz some tags are actually very spoilery so, i promise you this will end happily NO TRAGIC ENDINGS IN MY HOUSE, i'll add more character tags later too, wirt is a city boy, yeah you've been warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221bdisneystreet/pseuds/221bdisneystreet
Summary: Beatrice has got too many problems to deal with: chaotic younger siblings, strict parents, failing English class, working two jobs to get by. The only silver lining is if she can escape the hellhole that is her small town life. Emphasis on IF, though...Wirt has got one major problem to deal with: his handful of a brother Greg. Oh, and then there's Sara, the love of his life. But all he can do is pine from far away, foolishly dreaming of a peaceful future with his true love...One day, Beatrice wakes up in the body of a sixteen-year-old boy. At the same time, Wirt wakes up in the body of a seventeen-year-old girl.Fate sure is a weird thing, huh?
Relationships: Beatrice/Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 21





	say my name and every color illuminates

**Author's Note:**

> WHEW ok i haven't posted anything on here since 2018...for anyone who still reads my stuff, i'm so sorry. A lot has happened between then like starting grad school, quitting my job and trying to find a new one, depression, 2020 just being a total bitch...y'know the usual. BUT i'm back, and i'm gonna do my best to start some new projects that i'll actually stick to!! And what better way to make a comeback than with this? 
> 
> if you know me well enough, otgw is still one of my favorite shows of all time, and infinite eyerolls still has me in a chokehold. and kimi no na wa has become one of my favorite movies recently, so i thought "hey why not combine the two?"
> 
> i'm honestly very excited to start posting this fic. i already have big plans for it, and i hope if you start reading it, you'll be able to stick around with me until the end! :)
> 
> HUGE HUGE thanks to [brigid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstinspace), [noelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/generichero), and [mo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotRover) for being amazing betas!! ily all so much <3 <3
> 
> (title of the fic from "spectrum" by florence + the machine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beatrice has a somewhat uneventful day. So does Wirt.

In her sleepy state, Beatrice could hear a high-pitched jingle about an inch away from her. With her face still nuzzled deep into her pillow, she forced her hand to reach over and feel around her desk in search of the source. About ten seconds later, her fingers brushed against the smooth surface of her cell phone, and she picked it up and lifted her head. Through bleary vision, she switched the alarm off and the screen lit up with the scenery of a starry, twilight forest and the large, white digits of her clock.

7:15 AM. Monday, September 12.

Beatrice groaned and set her phone down before her head fell onto her pillow again, her face sinking further and further into its softness and––

“Hey, Bea!”

At the sound of a loud voice and her bedroom door flinging open, Beatrice’s head shot up so quickly that she almost gave herself whiplash. Her mind adjusted to her surroundings as it pieced together the components of a small, cluttered, and sunlit bedroom. Beatrice’s attention focused on the source of the voice, which stood at her door in the form of a red-headed preteen girl with two braids tied together with blue hair ties.

“Geez, your bedhead just gets worse and worse every morning,” Maddie snorted. “You look like you’re from _The_ _Lion King_ or something.”

Beatrice narrowed her eyes at her sister and frowned. But before she could snap back with the most sarcastic, PG-rated comeback that her still-exhausted brain could muster, Maddie said, “Hurry up and get your lazy butt out of bed. Mom already has breakfast downstairs.”

Without another word, she slammed the door.

Beatrice rolled onto her back and glared up at the ceiling. With a tired huff, she grumbled, “At least I don’t look like a farmgirl from Kansas, Dorothy.”

...Yeah, she really needed to work on her joke delivery. She tossed her blanket aside and dragged herself out of bed, not ready to start another boring day.

* * *

“Hey, Wirt! Wake up!”

The sound of Greg barging into his bedroom coaxed a drowsy, annoyed groan out of Wirt. With his eyes squeezed shut, he tugged his blanket over his head, hoping to block out the pestering voice that chirped in his ears like a sparrow. 

“Come on, o’ brother of mine! It’s already morning!”

“I never would have guessed,” Wirt grumbled, curling deeper into his blanket cocoon. Then he felt his mattress bouncing up and down as someone climbed onto his bed.

“Wirt! I gotta ask you something!”

_Oh god, not this again._

Wirt could feel persistent jabs and pokes against his shoulders and back as Greg repeated his name like a broken record. Still, he refused to budge.

_Just five more minutes of peace. Please—_

His blanket was swiped away from his head, and the swift motion startled him upright. Through fatigue-riddled vision, Wirt could make out Greg’s doll-like face, his ruffled brown hair, his wide eyes twinkling with cheerful innocence as he sat with his hands behind his back.

“Ugh, fine. I give in. What is it, Greg?”

With a toothy grin, Greg asked, “Did you know that geese are really just ducks that stretched their necks to be super long so that they can eat leaves from trees ‘cause they’re vegetarians?”

Wirt stared at his brother with an unimpressed look. “No, I never knew that.”

“Well, that’s because it’s not true!” Greg proclaimed with an air of delight. He lifted up his right hand, which held a rock with a goofy clown face painted on it. “It’s a rock fact!”

As Greg beamed with triumph, Wirt gave him an irritated glare before he glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand. The time read 6:24.

“Greg, how in the _world_ are you so awake and energized this early in the morning?”

“I dunno. How are you _not_ so awake and ener-whatever this early in the morning?”

Wirt fell back onto his pillow and pulled the blanket over his head again. “Are you done throwing absurd and painfully incorrect statements at my face?”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…..” Greg pondered out loud with an unnecessary, dramatic effect. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good, then why don’t you go and bother someone else so I can actually sleep?”

“Okay, Wirt! You need to sleep well. That’s what Dad always says.”

The mattress squeaked and bounced as Greg hopped off of Wirt’s bed, and he left the room while humming a random and nonsensical tune. Wirt could already feel his eyelids drifting closed and whatever shreds of alertness he had slipping away.

He was dreading when the clock would inevitably beep at 7:00.

* * *

The clattering of dishes and silverware and the shrill screeches of children, accompanied by the warm scent of homemade pancakes, wafted from the kitchen. Beatrice’s stomach grumbled as she rushed downstairs while tying her hair into a ponytail. She hoisted her backpack further up her right shoulder and stepped into the kitchen. As expected in a household containing six noisy kids ( _obviously_ not including her, thank you very much) and two overworked parents, it was in a state of absolute chaos. And even that was an understatement. 

The table was packed to the brim with plates of syrup-covered pancakes and scrambled eggs, glasses of milk, and a single cup of coffee. Seated around the table were all of Beatrice’s younger siblings and her father, who seemed invested in reading his newspaper despite the noise that erupted around him. Fiona was helping Lily cut her pancakes while harshly scolding Teddy for using his fork to fling bits of eggs at the two girls across the table. Annabelle and Mary were giggling with food-stuffed mouths as they watched Teddy’s antics, and Lily started to cry. Maddie, perfectly playing the role of the only sane child in the house besides Beatrice, was calmly but quickly eating her breakfast, only pausing between bites to glimpse at her cell phone. Meanwhile, her mother was fretting over the stove, which howled with a low and constant whir.

“Beatrice, hurry! It’s already past 7:30!” her mother shouted over the sizzling of bacon strips as she flipped them over. The steam, infused with the smell of crackling and crispy meat, enveloped the room. Beatrice opened the refrigerator and grabbed the loaf of bread and the stick of butter from the top shelf.

“Okay, okay, Mom. Calm down!” she yelled back as she stuck a slice of bread in the toaster.

“Oh my gosh, Beatrice. Did you oversleep again? This is the third time already since school started!”

“It was an accident, Mom.” Beatrice took out a knife from the silverware drawer. “You’re lucky I set an extra alarm in case I missed my usual one––hey, Teddy!” she snapped, her voice stern and firm. “Don’t waste your food like that, and be nice to your sisters!” She quickly grabbed a few napkins from the table.

“I understand the school year’s just begun, dear, but you have to learn to be more responsible,” her mom said as she turned off the stove and scooped the bacon onto a paper towel to let it soak up the grease and oil. “This includes _not_ missing your alarm and _not_ running late.”

Beatrice groaned as she walked over to Lily and Fiona. It wasn’t like this was the fiftieth time she heard this same lecture. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Hey, it’s okay, Lily. Teddy won’t do it again, okay?” The edges of her voice softened as she dabbed at her sister’s tear-stained eyes and brushed off the egg stains on her cheeks. She handed a clean napkin to Fiona, who thanked her before proceeding to wipe her own face.

“Beatrice,” her mom sighed, “I know you must be tired of hearing me nag you about the same things over and over again. But you’re going to be eighteen soon, and you’re already a senior in high school.”

The toaster dinged and the piece of bread popped up. Beatrice rushed over and took it out, pleased to see that it had been toasted to dark brown perfection and not blackened to a crisp like last time. The burnt scent crept into her nostrils with a welcoming aroma.

“You’re so close to becoming an adult, and I just want to make sure you understand how important it is to start acting responsibly. You won’t be able to keep up such a laidback lifestyle in college.”

“I _know_ , Mom. I’m sorry,” Beatrice said while she spread butter onto her toast. The knife grated and scraped against the burnt surface, causing some crumbs to sprinkle down onto the counter. “I promise I’ll try to wake up on time.”

“Don’t just _try_ , sweetie. I won’t believe it until you actually do it.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes. Mothers always knew how to get underneath their kids’ skin. She bit into her toast with a loud crunch. The first bite was satisfying, like music to her ears and stomach, and the taste of melted butter danced on her tongue. As she chewed, she turned to Maddie. “Come on Maddie, get your things. We gotta hurry over to Lorna’s house.”

Maddie finished the last of her pancakes, put her phone in her pocket, and stood up, taking her backpack with one hand and her empty plate and silverware with the other. As she slung her backpack over her shoulder, she put her dishes in the sink and rushed to the front door. Taking another bite of her toast, Beatrice followed her.

“Have a good day at school!” her father called out, finally breaking his concentration over his morning paper.

“Yeah, thanks Dad,” she shouted back as she ran out the door.

* * *

“Well, look what the cat dragged in this morning,” Wirt’s mother teased as he stumbled into the kitchen. Judging by the bowls, the two boxes of Corn Flakes and Froot Loops, and the gallon of milk on the table, it seemed like it was a cereal day. Wirt rubbed his eyes as he dropped his messenger bag by the only unoccupied chair. He slumped into his seat and yawned.

“Mom, we don’t even have a cat,” he muttered.

“Oh, Wirt. Always gotta be a killjoy, huh?” His mother chuckled as she reached over and ruffled his hair.

“Hey, come on!” Wirt swatted her arm away and pouted. He blinked rapidly, his vision clearing up. His mother gave a cheeky smile, and he stuck his tongue out playfully in response.

“Ok, dear. Don’t get sassy at me and eat your breakfast.”

Wirt reached over for the box of Corn Flakes. His mother had already finished her breakfast and was now browsing through her cell phone, while Greg was still halfway through eating, the edges of his mouth dabbled with milk stains. Meanwhile, across from Wirt, his stepfather John was nearly done with his own breakfast.

“Did you get a good sleep, Wirt?” John asked, his voice as pleasant and warm as always even on an early weekday morning.

“I guess,” Wirt mumbled, sounding grumpier than he actually was as he poured some cereal into his bowl.

“What time did you go to sleep?”

“I don’t know. 11? I lost track.” Wirt set the cereal box down, keeping his gaze focused on his bowl. Silently, he prayed that his terse and gruff attitude was obvious enough that John would get the hint that Wirt had absolutely no intention of making small talk. Or really, _any_ sort of talk with him.

“That’s good! You’ll want to start building up healthy, regular sleep habits at an early age so that way they’ll carry over into adulthood. After all, old habits die hard.”

“Yeah I _know_ that already.” The impatience in Wirt’s voice was much harsher than he intended, although he wasn’t opposed to that. His mother clearly thought otherwise, as she cleared her throat, and Wirt looked up to see her eyeing him sternly. He diverted his attention back to his cereal bowl. Luckily, before an awkward silence could ensue, John’s cell phone rang. He dug into his suit pocket and checked the screen.

“Oh, it’s the department chair.” John stood and picked up his briefcase. “I’ll get the car ready and wait for you guys while I take this call.” He gave Wirt’s mother a quick kiss on the cheek before he left the kitchen and answered his phone. 

“That reminds me. Wirt,” his mother said as she stood up and gathered John’s empty bowl as well as her own, “your father and I have to attend our monthly department meeting at six, so we’ll be home late tonight. Can you pick Greg up from school and take him with you to the library?”

“Ugh, Mom.” Wirt reached for the milk and poured some onto his cereal. “Can’t someone else babysit him? Or can’t you leave him at a daycare or something?”

“It’s hard to find a babysitter in this neighborhood, especially on weeknights. Besides, Greg loves going to the library.”

“Yeah!” Greg exclaimed, his mouth stuffed with food. “I wanna read more books about frogs and how to catch one!” Bits of chewed-up cereal flew out of his mouth as he spoke. Wirt rubbed his forehead and glared down at his bowl before he scooped a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“But Mom, I don’t want to deal with––”

“Wirt, _please_.” The clatter of dishes against the metal basin of the sink was followed by the rush of water from the faucet. “Greg will be on his best behavior.”

“Yeah, Wirt! I promise I’ll be good.” Greg flashed a bright grin. Wirt frowned but then let out a defeated sigh.

“Okay fine,” he grumbled, then pointed at Greg. “But you better not goof around or misbehave. And don’t even think about embarrassing me, got it?”

“You got it!” Greg gave a thumbs up. “I’ll make sure to not say anything in case you’re with Sa––”

“ _Shhh_!” Wirt hissed, a sudden warmth sparking in his cheeks. His eyes darted frantically towards his mother, who gave him a confused glance. Despite that, she said nothing and continued washing the dishes. Wirt leaned forward and whispered, “ _What_ did I just say about not embarrassing me?”

“Oops! Sorry, big bro.” Greg covered his mouth. Wirt crossed his arms and slouched in his chair, glaring at him. The heat in his face waned, and he watched Greg slurp up the last of the milk from his bowl before placing it back on the table with a thud and letting out a satisfied ‘aaaah.’

“Delicious!” Greg exclaimed. “Well, I’m gonna go sit in the car with Dad.” The legs of his chair grated against the wooden floor, and he zipped up his backpack and hoisted it over his shoulders before rushing out of the kitchen.

“Thank you, Wirt.” His mother switched off the faucet and dried her hands with a towel. “If you want, I left some money on the counter so that you can order pizza or take-out when you come home.”

“Okay,” Wirt said before he ate another spoonful of cereal. His mother walked over and planted a gentle kiss on his head. He looked up at her to see that she had a solemn smile on her face.

 _Uhoh_.

“Wirt,” his mother sighed as she placed a hand on his shoulder, “I know getting along with John and Greg has been... difficult for you.”

_Here we go._

“But John’s really trying his best to connect with you. And Greg...he’s just a little kid, and he just wants an older brother who’ll be a good role model and friend to him. They both really love you. But you can’t keep pushing them away forever.”

_Andddd she’s dropped the bombshell._

“I can’t force you to actually _like_ them, but could you at least try to be nicer? It would certainly mean a lot to them...and to me.”

Wirt stared down at his bowl, where several remaining pieces of Corn Flakes floated in a shallow pool of milk. As much as he wanted to dispute with his mother over this, he knew that now was not a good time. Not when his mother was truly desperate.

For now, he’d just let the bitterness continue to stew in his heart.

“Alright, I’ll...try.” The hesitation in his tone wasn’t subtle, but his words still earned him a brighter smile from his mother.

“That’s all I ask.” She gave him another kiss on his forehead. “I hope you mean it, though.”

Wirt didn’t respond, instead focusing his attention back on finishing the last of his breakfast. His mother checked her watch and gasped, “Oh no, I lost track of the time again!” She grabbed her purse from her chair. “You should hurry too, Wirt. You can worry about the rest of the dishes when you get home.”

Wirt looked at his own phone to check the time. 7:40 AM.

Shit.

“Have a good day at school, Wirt! I love you,” his mother shouted as she hurried out of the kitchen. “And don’t forget to lock the door before you leave!”

“Okay, Mom! Love you.”

As soon as the front door slammed shut, Wirt gathered his and Greg’s bowls and placed them in the sink. Without missing a step, he slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and headed for the front door. While he slipped his sneakers on, snippets of the conversation replayed in his mind like a videotape being rewound over and over again.

_You can’t keep pushing them away forever._

Wirt shook his head as he stepped outside.

_Sorry to disappoint you, Mom._

* * *

“...Meanwhile, the character of Ophelia can be seen through modern interpretations as a product of the male-dominated society of England and the widely-accepted perspective of women’s dependence on men with authority…”

Beatrice wasn’t quite sure what state her mind was in right now, drifting between nearly dozing off and half-listening to Mrs. Langtree lecturing about...something that had to do with Shakespeare and feminism? Who even knew or cared at this point, to be honest? Beatrice’s eyes shifted from the whiteboard to her notebook, where she had scribbled and doodled in the margins of her messy notes. Her vision blurred and faded into––

“Beatrice?”

“Huh, what?” She jerked her head up to see Mrs. Langtree giving her a focused stare.

“Can you tell the class your interpretation of Ophelia’s death?”

“Uhh…” Beatrice’s grip on her pencil tightened, while her left hand balled into a loose fist and tapped on her desk. After what felt like fifteen minutes instead of fifteen seconds, she shrugged and answered, “I don’t know.”

“I see.” Mrs. Langtree pursed her lips before she spoke again. “Beatrice, I will have you know that I won’t tolerate any students napping in my class.” Her eyebrow perked up as she looked at Beatrice intently. “And being a senior doesn’t exempt you from this rule.”

As the quiet snickers from her classmates floated through the room, Beatrice merely bit her lip and nodded, her eyes glued to her desk. She could feel her cheeks burning with humiliation. Even though she sat in the back, she somehow _still_ got caught. She was never going to underestimate Mrs. Langtree’s damn hawk-like senses again.

“Alright then,” Mrs. Langtree directed her attention to the rest of the class, “is there anyone else who would like to give their thoughts about Ophelia’s death in the play?”

Beatrice propped her chin on her left palm and gave an inaudible huff, tapping her pencil against her notebook.

Five minutes passed until the bell rang.

Finally.

“Now remember, class, your essays on _Macbeth_ are due on Friday. Wednesday, we’ll review what will be on the test next Monday,” Mrs. Langtree announced over the shuffling of books and the zipping of backpack pockets. While the students scrambled to leave the classroom in a noisy chatter, Beatrice packed her belongings and slipped her backpack over her shoulder. As the last student to leave, she approached the door.

“Beatrice, may I speak with you for a moment?”

Mrs. Langtree’s voice halted Beatrice’s movement, with her hand hovering over the doorknob, her fingers tingling at the near contact between skin and cold metal. Stifling a frustrated groan, Beatrice let her hand fall and walked over to Mrs. Langtree, who was seated at her desk.

“Yeah?” She struggled to maintain a neutral tone.

With nothing but a stern look, Mrs. Langtree slid a piece of paper along the surface of her desk. It only took two seconds for Beatrice to realize that this was her poetry quiz from last Friday. Judging by the markings and comments, along with the big ‘D’ circled in red ink at the top of the page, this private meeting was going to be anything but pleasant.

“Could you explain to me what exactly is the meaning of this?” Mrs. Langtree’s tone was soft and calm, yet even underneath all of that, her disappointment was very obvious. Beatrice hesitated, her fingers idly playing with a loose piece of yarn on her turquoise sweater. Feigning ignorance, she shrugged and muttered nonchalantly, “Dunno.”

Mrs. Langtree maintained her stare as she scrutinized Beatrice’s face for the slightest blink or twitch that betrayed her awareness.

“You know that’s not going to work, young lady.”

“What isn’t?”

Mrs. Langtree sighed, shaking her head. “Beatrice, I know that English isn’t your best or favorite subject, but you’ve had two weeks to study for this quiz and I can tell you didn’t even try. And this isn’t the first time you’ve failed your assignments this semester.”

Beatrice had to resist rolling her eyes. Mrs. Langtree leaned forward, the stern expression on her face more piercing than before.

“This may be your senior year, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to slack off in your studies. And I’m not letting you slide that easily.”

Mrs. Langtree stood up. “I’m going to assign you a personal essay.”

“What?” Beatrice’s question came out a little more harshly than she intended.

“I want you to write me a two page essay,” Mrs. Langtree continued, disregarding Beatrice’s shock, “about your life goals and what factors have helped shape your aspirations. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Beatrice gave her an incredulous stare.

“You’re joking, right?”

Mrs. Langtree glared at her, which made Beatrice recoil.

“I will be expecting your essay back in three weeks. If you can finish it on time and put in enough effort, I’ll bump your quiz grade up by one letter.”

Well, that was generous.

Beatrice sucked in her breath. “And if I don’t?”

“Then, I’m going to have to discuss this with your parents.”

Beatrice flinched. Oh god, no. If her parents found out she was already failing English...

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

Mrs. Langtree’s expression softened. “I’m glad you made the right choice.” She walked over to the whiteboard and erased the schedule and lesson notes from today. “You’re dismissed, young lady.”

Beatrice huffed before she headed towards the door. Her fingers curled around the doorknob––

“Beatrice.”

She paused but didn’t dare to make eye contact with Mrs. Langtree again. “Yeah?”

“Do you understand why I’m making you do this?”

“No.”

There was a small clatter as Mrs. Langtree picked up a marker from the edge of the whiteboard.

“Because I know you’re better than this.”

A squeaky ‘pop’ punctured the air as she uncapped her marker.

“And I want you to prove that to me.”

Without another word, Mrs. Langtree returned her attention to the whiteboard as she began to write her notes for the next class. Beatrice blinked, the words tolling in her head like the vibrations of a church bell.

She bit her lip, her grip on the doorknob tightening as she turned it.

That sure wasn’t the first time she’d heard an adult tell her something like that. Normally, she’d brush it off and wouldn’t really care. But for some reason, this time, the phrase nearly gutted her. Something in her stomach curled and twisted, as if someone was about to wrench it out of her body.

Beatrice shook her head and rushed out of the room.

...Obviously, breakfast was starting to catch up to her.

* * *

The hallway was filled with the raucous chatter of students, punctuated by the clicks and slams of locker doors. Wirt dug his hands deeper into his pockets as he walked down the hall, diverting his attention from the muddied-yellow tile floor to the faded-blue classroom doors to the dull-white ceiling with a few small cracks trailing along its surface. To his relief, none of the other students seemed to pay him any heed, too fixated on exchanging the latest gossip about how one of the new cheerleading recruits and the star quarterback were already dating, or discussing the newest season of _American Horror Story_. Still, he avoided eye contact with any human being he passed by, hoping that no one mistakenly got the impression that he wanted to converse with them. Soon, he reached his locker, the orange door remarkably polished despite the rusted stains and pencil scratches that blemished its surface. He opened it, putting away his precalculus textbook and taking out both his AP US history and physics textbooks.

“Hey, Wirt.”

A friendly voice from behind startled him and he turned around.

“Sara! Umm, I—” Before he could process the beautiful girl in front of him, his history textbook slipped out of his grasp and bounced on his right sneaker before landing on the floor with a thud. The pain on his toe was immediate, but with his delayed reaction, Wirt tried his best to suck in a yelp and only managed to squeak out a weak “Hey.”

“Oh geez, Wirt! You okay?” Sara knelt down to pick up the book. “Monday morning, right? Starting the second week of school, and we’re already cramming for a history quiz past one AM. I guess that’s the AP curriculum, though.” 

She laughed, standing up and handing the book back to him. Wirt blinked, his gaze flickering between the book in Sara’s outstretched hand and Sara herself. The wavy locks of black hair that framed her cheeks, the lull in her voice that sang like a welcoming birdsong, the twinkle in her brown eyes or the dimples near her lips whenever she giggled…

_Oh Sara, how I love thee, my angel––_

“Uhh, Wirt? You there?”

“Huh?” Wirt blinked again as he saw Sara give him a puzzled stare. “Oh, s-sorry.” He took the book from her. “Thanks. I kind of, uhh, I mean, sorry I zoned out there.”

“Hey, it’s cool, man.” Sara grinned and patted Wirt on the back. He let out a barely audible “oomph” at the force of her motion, which bordered more on ‘unintentional but friendly slap’ than a gentle pat on the back. Even after five years, he still wasn’t quite used to her strength.

“So, Wirt, I wanted to ask,” Sara twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, “if you were available next weekend? A bunch of us wanna drive down to the pier and hang out at the carnival next Saturday, and we thought it’d be cool if you could join us. I mean, if you’re free.”

“Oh, umm,” Wirt stuttered, closing his locker door with a metallic bang. “Do you know who’s coming?”

“Well, let’s see…” Sara looked up as she pondered. “So far it’ll be me, Kathleen, Rhondi, Lizzie, Alexis, Jonathan, and—”

“Hey, Sara.”

Wirt cringed when he heard that nasally drawl buzzing just two feet behind Sara. Like a drone swooping in from nowhere, the source of that incessant voice, with his scrawny figure and perfectly combed hair and beady eyes, jogged up next to her.

“Hey,” Wirt had to force himself to keep his tone casual, despite the grimace that crossed his lips and his grip on his textbook growing tighter, “Jason Funderberker.”

“Oh, hey Wirt!” Jason greeted him with an amicable, lopsided grin. “What are you and Sara talking about?” He nonchalantly propped his arm on Sara’s shoulder and leaned against her. Sara seemed relatively unfazed by the physical contact, which already made Wirt’s stomach twist into knots.

“I was asking if Wirt wanted to join us next weekend for our trip to the carnival,” Sara answered.

 _Us_.

The word instantly pierced Wirt in the chest, and he could feel his heart sinking like a ship that had been torpedoed.

“So? You down, Wirt?” Sara asked with an expectant smile.

“Umm, I…” Wirt swallowed his dejection. “I can’t. I already have...family plans.” Struggling to answer with a steady tone, he hoped that his vague excuse wasn’t too transparent. His voice, however, still rang hollow.

“Aww.” Sara frowned, disappointment flashing across her face. “That sucks, man.” She clutched her books tightly against her chest and stared down. With an awkward shrug, she continued, “I guess there’s always next time…”

_And so, like a ship sailing to the edge of the horizon,_

_She eludes my grasp, and along with her,_

_All my hopes have departed––_

Wirt’s poetic, grim internal monologue was cut short by the shrill ringing of the bell that echoed throughout the hall. Five more minutes until first period. Sara’s head perked back up.

“Shit, AP Calc already? Well...” The pleasant smile on her face returned as she waved to Wirt. “I’ll see you in APUSH, Wirt!”

“Bye, Wirt!” Jason said, waving back as he and Sara began walking down the hallway. Once they were both far away, Wirt meekly raised his hand and gave a flimsy wave.

“Bye, Sara…” he said, too quietly for anyone to hear. As he turned in the opposite direction and started walking towards his physics class, he muttered, “...and Jason Funderberker.”

* * *

“Hey Beatrice! This one’s ready to go!”

The bell from the prep window dinged, piercing through the commotion of sizzling grills, clanging of steel pans, and bubbling of fried oil. Immediately after, a plate with a large steak clattered on the edge of the window. Wisps of steam, laced with the smells of grease and grilled meat and salt, curled out from the kitchen and into the dining area. Beatrice grabbed the plate and turned around to the old man who sat at the counter with his cup of coffee.

“Here you go sir, your medium rare steak.” She set the plate down in front of him, and he nodded before picking up the newspaper near him and opening it. A rumbling sensation rippled through Beatrice’s stomach as the tempting scent of charbroiled meat floated near her. Regretting the fact that she didn’t eat a snack beforehand, she turned away and wondered if she could take a quick break to snag something from the backroom.

Thankfully, the diner was somewhat calm right now. Only a few tables and booths were occupied with customers––either teenagers eating french fries and laughing way too loudly, or elderly adults eating their sandwiches in silence.

“Beatrice?”

Someone tapped on her shoulder and she turned around.

“What’s up, Lorna?”

“Could you help out table seven for me? I’m sorry, I missed a call from the pharmacy and I have to call them back. Must be something to do with my aunt’s medication.” 

“Oh, yeah of course! But where’s Catherine? She not here or…?”

“Not sure.” Lorna shook her head. “Maybe she’s still in the backroom?”

Beatrice groaned. “Fucking Catherine…” Catherine had only been working here for three months, yet she thought she owned the place and could do whatever the hell she wanted just because she was the manager’s daughter. “Alright. Don’t worry, Lorna. I’ll cover for you.”

“Thank you so much, Bea.” Lorna clasped her hands together. “Oh, by the way, I still have an extra bag of chips in my backpack. You can take it when you go on break, if you’d like.”

“Wh...are you sure? I––”

“Please, it’s no big deal. I wasn’t going to eat them anyway today. Besides, I know how hungry you must be.” Lorna smiled. Beatrice blinked before she smiled back. Lorna’s maternal instincts never failed anyone.

“Thanks.”

Lorna nodded before she went back into the kitchen. Beatrice took a deep breath and smoothed out the skirt of her waitress uniform. Her stomach rumbled again, slightly louder and stronger this time.

_Five minutes. Hopefully this will only take five minutes._

She headed over to table seven, which was occupied by a trio of jocks dressed in maroon and gold-lined varsity jackets who were laughing obnoxiously over...something that she probably wouldn’t have cared about. Digging into the pocket of her apron, she fished out her notepad and pen and cleared her throat.

“Hello, my name’s Beatrice and I’ll be your server today. Are you all ready to order?” she asked, shifting into her overly courteous customer service voice and forcing a cheerful smile. One of the boys, who had dusty blue eyes and messy blonde hair, looked up at her.

“Three burgers with fries and three Cokes.”

“Alright.” Beatrice scribbled down the order on her notepad. “Anything else?”

“Beatrice, right?”

“Uhh, yes?”

“Could I also place an order for your phone number?” he asked, leaning forward with a smug and flirtatious grin, and his two friends snickered. Beatrice’s smile quickly became more strained, and her hand tensed as her grip on the pen tightened.

_Oh hell fucking no._

“I’m sorry, sir?” she asked, trying her damnedest to fake her patience.

“I mean, I’m a handsome guy myself, y’know, and you’re a total cutie. I can tell, I got eyes.” The blonde one winked at Beatrice. “Don’t you think we’d go great together?”

Beatrice bit the inside of her lips, and her eye started to twitch. Typically, she’d ignore such a small, idiotic thing like this and maintain her composure. But for some reason, there was just something about this guy that _really_ stretched her patience thin, like a fraying thread, as if there was a fuse in her mind that was about to explode. She tucked away her notepad and pen back into her apron pocket, her lips relaxing.

“Then don’t you think it’s polite for a guy like you to introduce yourself to me also?”

“Well, since you asked,” the boy replied, running his fingers through his hair, still wearing that stupid and self-satisfied look on his face, “the name’s Todd.”

“Then listen carefully, Todd…”

Beatrice slammed her hands on the table, and she leaned in closer towards Todd and glared at him, immediately wiping that shit-eating grin off his face and replacing it with an expression of ‘oh fuck.’

“If you really think you can just waltz in here and expect a girl to fall head over heels for you the moment she lays eyes on your greasy hair,” she said in a low, serious voice, “then you’re fucking wrong.”

“H-hey, girl, I-I was just kidding––” Todd stammered.

“Ha! That’s rich. Anyways, you better fucking think twice before you wanna leave with some hopeless, random girl clinging to your sorry excuses for muscles and fawning over your white-bread face.”

“Geez, okay okay! I’m sorry, I won’t do it again!” Todd lifted his hands nervously. His friends were equally frightened, glancing back and forth between him and Beatrice.

“That’s what I thought.” Beatrice straightened herself up again and crossed her arms, smiling proudly. “And for the record, your flirting tactics are shit.”

“ _Beatrice_.”

Her smile instantly dropped and her blood ran cold at the gruff sound of her name coming from right behind. She turned around.

_Ahh shit._

“Uhh hey, George––”

“My office. Now,” he demanded, his tone even but harsh, before walking away. Beatrice flashed an angry look over her shoulder at the cowering trio.

“Your orders will be ready soon,” she grumbled. Then she headed towards the kitchen.

The cacophony and sensations of the kitchen were more magnified than they were from the outside. The smoky scents of burgers and steaks, the near-suffocating heat that enveloped the whole room, the hiss and crackle of the stoves and grills...Beatrice couldn’t help but cough before passing through the thin fog of steam and sparing a quick greeting towards any of the cooks who made eye contact with her. She approached the door of George’s office and opened it, stepping inside the cramped room and immediately shutting the door.

George sat at his small, cluttered desk and stared at her with his arms crossed, gesturing towards the empty chair in front of him. Beatrice pursed her lips and sat down, leaning back in an effort to act casual.

“Beatrice, this is the fourth time you’ve lashed out at a customer––”

“It’s not ‘lashing out.’ It’s called ‘teaching a bunch of idiots a lesson,’” Beatrice said, rolling her eyes.

“Now’s not the time to get sassy with me, young lady,” George retorted. Beatrice just crossed her arms and let out a disgruntled huff.

George sighed, rubbing his temples. “Beatrice, I know patience isn’t your strongest quality, and normally you’re pretty good with most customers. Not only that, you’re very hardworking and on top of things, and the kitchen staff love having you around. That’s why I’ve continued keeping you here. But your tendency to snap at some of the more... _difficult_ customers is really concerning.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that dude was acting disgusting.”

“That’s not the point, Beatrice. I understand it’s frustrating, but you _know_ there are better ways to deal with troublesome customers than scaring them or starting a fight.”

Beatrice stared down at her lap, tapping her fingers against her arm.

“I want you to take this seriously, Beatrice. Knowing how to navigate these incidents calmly, being patient with others, not causing a ruckus...these are important to keep in mind not just for working here, but for _any_ situation you’re in.

“I’ve been lenient enough with you over this kind of behavior, but four strikes is already pushing it. This is your final warning.”

“Excuse me?” Beatrice’s head shot back up.

“You get one more chance. If you cause one more incident, then you’re fired. No exceptions, no questions asked. Understood?” George leaned forward, clasping his hands together and staring at Beatrice with a stern expression. Beatrice blinked before she sighed.

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, you’re dismissed. Think about what I said, okay?”

Beatrice nodded before she stood up and left the office. When she shut the door behind her, she smacked her palms over her face and dragged them down, croaking out a frustrated sound.

“Bea? You okay? What happened?”

Beatrice glanced to her left to see Lorna, staring at her with concern. “Lorna, I––”

Just then, she felt her stomach growling again.

“I’ll tell you after I get a quick snack,” she answered, clutching her stomach.

“Oh, okay,” Lorna said, and Beatrice was about to rush over to the backroom when she paused and took out her notepad.

“Wait, Lorna! Here.” She ripped out the sheet that had Todd and his friends’ orders messily written down and handed it to Lorna. “Table seven’s order.”

With a grateful smile, Lorna took the paper. “Thanks, Bea.”

“Yeah, it was nothing…”

As Beatrice made her way to the backroom, George’s ultimatum loomed over her like a foreboding storm cloud. And no matter how hard she focused for the remainder of her shift, she could never completely shake it off.

* * *

The library was Wirt’s favorite place of all time.

The solitude of the help desk that served as his primary workspace, the echoes of footsteps and hushed chatter of enthusiastic readers, the sunlight pouring through the glass panes on the high-rise ceilings and reflecting the pristine marble walls and floor, the cool air that circulated through the vents and permeated the building, the faint scents of old books and vintage catalogues…

All of the small details left Wirt at ease, pulling him into a safe haven away from the annoyances of daily life. The library was soothing, relaxing, almost therapeutic, a sanctuary. Virtually free of any distractions or disturbances––

“Psst, hey! Wirt!”

Well, most of the time.

Wirt frowned and peeked over his anthology of American poetry. Sitting in one of the chairs in front of him was Greg, his short legs swinging back and forth.

“What do you want now, Greg?”

“Did you know that flamingos used to drink pink lemonade and eat cotton candy and that’s what made their feathers turn pink?”

Wirt sighed. How much longer was he going to have to play this stupid game?

“No, I definitely didn’t know that.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s not true!” Greg held up his goofy, clown-faced rock. “It’s a rock fact!”

“...Greg, what are you _really_ here for?”

“Oh, right!” Greg slipped his rock back into his jacket pocket. “Can you help me find any books about frogs? I gotta learn how to be an expert frog catcher before frog-catching season’s over.”

Wirt was tempted to slam his book shut, but he didn’t want to lose his place or make his irritation more blatant than it already was. Instead, he resisted the urge and carefully set his book down. “There’s plenty of books about frogs in the children’s section. You should know that by now.”

“But I’ve already looked through those before.” Greg pouted. “And they don’t tell me how I should catch one. Can you help me look?”

“Greg, I highly doubt this library’s gonna have a book specifically about catching frogs.”

“How do _you_ know if the library isn’t gonna have something about catching frogs, Wirt? There’s a bajillion books here!” Greg stretched his arms towards the ceiling. “There’s a one in a bajillion chance that I can find what I want!”

Wirt pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, fine. If I look it up for you, will you leave me alone?”

“I promise!” Greg gave a thumbs up, and Wirt rolled his eyes as he turned to his computer. The screen lit up with the homepage for the library database. Clicking away on the keyboard, Wirt typed ‘frog catching’ in the search bar.

As he had correctly assumed, the page loaded and presented the error message: **Results unavailable. Please try a new search.**

“Well, surprise. I got nothing,” he grumbled, leaning back in his chair.

“That was fast. You sure you can’t look harder?”

“What else do you expect me to do?” Wirt picked up his book and buried his face close to the pages. “Just Google it on your own or something.”

“Hmm, okay! That’s a good idea!” A creak emanated from the chair as its legs scraped against the floor, followed by the tap of sneakers. “Thanks, Wirt! You’re a genius!”

Greg’s shuffling footsteps came and faded with quiet squeaks. Relieved, Wirt felt his muscles relax.

Finally. Peace again.

It felt like only five minutes had passed until the sound of approaching footsteps, light and steady, came into Wirt’s field of hearing, louder and louder until they ceased. Wirt sucked in a breath.

_Just be patient. It can’t be Greg again. I swear to god—_

Wirt placed his book down and looked up. The moment he laid eyes on the person in front of him, his heart nearly skipped two beats.

“Sara! I—”

“Hey, Wirt.” Sara smiled, tangling and weaving her fingers through a few strands of hair.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had practice today?”

“Well, we did for like, thirty minutes. But then Kathleen suddenly sprained her ankle during the routine and apparently that was enough for Coach to call off practice early.”

“Oof, that’s rough,” Wirt grimaced. “Hope she’s okay.”

“Ehh, it’ll heal up in like two days tops, I bet.” Sara shrugged. She sat down and placed her AP Calc textbook on the table. “Anyways, I figured I’d spend the rest of the afternoon here until my parents get back home.”

“Oh.” Wirt leaned forward, propping his chin up with his hand. “So...is it just you?” 

“Yep. Jason and the others are probably still at their photography club meeting, so…” Sara’s words trailed off as she glanced down.

“Ahh.”

An awkward silence followed. Wirt’s eyes were still locked onto Sara, who traced invisible circles on the desk with her forefinger. Wirt drummed his fingers on the table.

_Come on, think of something. Come on, come on-–_

“So, uhh, that APUSH quiz…” Wirt cleared his throat. “What’d you think?”

God, it was always back to the nerdy, boring school topics. But what else could he do?

“Ehh, it wasn’t too bad. Pretty basic, although…” Sara hesitated. “I’m already worried about that research paper.”

“Oh, yeah. I mean...I’m a bit excited.”

“Of course _you_ would be. History is your _thing_.” Sara grinned. “Do you already have any ideas about what you wanna write about? I know it’s not due until the end of the year, so you have plenty of time, but I’m just curious.”

“Oh, uhh...I don’t know…” Wirt clasped his hands together, twiddling his thumbs, staring downwards. “Maybe the American Revolution? Or the Enlightenment? Or maybe 19th century American philosophy and transcendentalism? Or the Industrial Revolution or––” Wirt stopped himself and looked back up at Sara, and he could feel warmth blooming in his face almost immediately. “I-I’m sorry, I’m just rambling on and on. It’s stupid––”

“What?” Sara stared at him, confused. “No, it isn’t.”

Wirt blinked, taken aback. “R-really?”

“Yeah, that all sounds super interesting! I mean, history isn’t my favorite subject, but you know...it’s still cool. Wish I could have that kind of motivation, to be honest.” 

“Oh...t-thanks...that’s really nice to hear.” Wirt rubbed the back of his neck before he realized what he just said. “I mean, nice to hear that you think it sounds cool! Not that you don’t have that same level of motivation. Wait, I mean, aggh…” He ruffled his hair in frustration.

_Dammit, Wirt, how much more of a fool can you be?_

Sara laughed. “It’s okay, man. I get what you mean.” She paused for a moment before her face lit up. “Hey, maybe we can study together?”

“Say what?” Wirt wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or mishearing things but...

“Yeah, y’know, just getting together to discuss research topics and stuff. Kinda casual, but it could be helpful for both of us! Or well, I guess more helpful for me since I still have no idea what to do.” Sara scratched her head. “But I’ve found that studying with another person and bouncing ideas off of someone definitely helps! I mean, if you don’t mind––”

“Sure, I’d love to.”

Sara looked at him with surprise, and Wirt’s eyes widened when he realized what he had just blurted out.

_Did I really just say––_

“Great!” Sara smiled with delight. “You free tomorrow? After school at Starbucks? Coffee is always a must for any study session.”

Wirt’s cheeks were getting warmer and warmer, the heat surging through his entire face and reaching up to his ears. And yet, he couldn’t help the corner of his lips perking upwards into a hint of a smile.

“Yeah...yeah, that works for me.”

“Awesome, dude!” Sara clapped her hands. Whatever tension that was in Wirt’s body seemed to melt away––

“Hey, Wirt!”

Wirt froze, the horror immediately resettling in each muscle and his remnant of a smile fading. Sara gave him a quizzical look before turning around. 

_Oh no, please no, don’t do this to me_.

Greg ran over to the help desk with an eager grin.

“Wirt, I finally got some ideas on how to catch a frog! We just need some bait first!” he exclaimed, stopping next to Sara.

“Greg, first of all, can you _please_ keep your voice down?” Wirt stood up, his palms pressing deep into the desk’s surface. “And secondly, can you g-–”

Before Wirt could finish, Greg turned and looked up at Sara. “Oh! Hi, Sara!”

“Hey, Greg. What’ve you been up to?” Sara smiled warmly at him.

“I’m learning how to catch a frog! I found out all on my own.” Greg put his hands on his hips, his face beaming with triumph. “Wirt tried to help, but he couldn’t do anything.”

“Hey!” Wirt snapped at him, sounding a lot harsher and more offended than he intended. Paying no heed to the reaction, Greg relaxed his pose and continued, “It’s okay, though. He told me to Google it and I did! Well, actually I had to ask the nice assistant lady for help, but still. I did it and I got what I needed, so it’s still all thanks to Wirt!”

“Well, Wirt may not seem like it, but he _is_ a lot nicer than he lets on,” Sara said with a laugh. Wirt could feel the blush that started to bloom in his cheeks. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was flattered or embarrassed or even lovestruck.

“Yep!” Greg nodded as he sat down in the other empty chair. “He’s still the best big brother I could ever ask for.” Just then his eyes lit up with excitement as a realization dawned on him. “Sara! Why don’t you come with me and Wirt to go frog catching sometime?”

Wirt was almost ready to climb over the desk and drag Greg out of the library. Anxiety unmistakably crawled underneath his skin, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. Alarms blared in his nerve-wracked mind.

“Oh?” Sara sounded taken aback yet genuinely curious at the sudden request, despite how, in Wirt’s opinion, completely ridiculous the activity was.

_Calm! Calm down––_

“Greg,” Wirt cleared his throat and straightened his posture, struggling to stay composed. He nervously rubbed and squeezed his sweaty hands together. “I-I don’t think we’ll have time––”

“Sure we will, Wirt,” Greg interrupted, failing to notice Wirt’s painfully obvious anxiety. “We got the weekends. And it’ll be a great way for you to spend some quality time with Sara. It’ll be like a date!”

“ _Greg!_ There’s not gonna be a date!” Wirt hissed. Panic completely swallowed him whole. Whatever fear-stricken sirens that were already blasting in his brain now screeched at full intensity ‘ _Alert! Alert!’_ The heat in his cheeks almost hit a record-breaking peak, and the rhythm of his pulse grew rapid and erratic.

_Calmcalmcalmcalmstaycalm-–_

Sara glanced between Greg and Wirt, a perplexed expression crossing her face. Wirt took a deep breath and repeated as calmly as he could, “There’s _not_ gonna be a date.”

“But Wirt,” Greg said, “Don’t you want to tell Sara how much you like––”

_Fuck, fuck!_

Wirt reached across the desk and smacked his palm over Greg’s mouth to shush him just in time, muffling the last of his humiliating question. He turned his gaze back to Sara, who still looked confused, and forced his most convincing smile.

“Greg means, umm, how, uhh…”

_Thinkthinkthinkthink––_

“How much I like hiking!” A hoarse laugh escaped his throat, and he nodded vigorously. “Yep, love that fresh air and that exercise. Good for the soul.”

_Whew._

Sara blinked before she replied with a steady “Oh.”

Wirt could feel Greg’s breath against his palm and hear the sound of a muted snicker. His own cheeks were steaming with embarrassment and irritation.

_Great job having to cover your ass there, Wirt. And Greg’s stupid blabbermouthing mess._

Just then, a vibrating buzz echoed nearby. Sara took out her cell phone from her jacket pocket. “Hold on a sec, Wirt.”

She stood up and turned away from the help desk before taking her call, her back facing Wirt and Greg. In a hushed tone, she said, “Yeah? Mom?”

Wirt released a quiet breath of relief. Just then, he thought he could feel a warm moisture on his palm. Abruptly, he jerked his hand away and grimaced in disgust, “Eew!”

He looked up at Greg, who stared at him innocently.

“Did you _really_ just lick my hand?”

Greg only grinned in response, and Wirt scowled at him and grabbed a tissue. Wiping the spit off of his hand, he muttered, “You need to grow up already.”

“Hey, I’m only seven. Although, I’m not sure how many inches I’ve grown since the last time Mom measured me. Maybe I grew up by two more inches!”

Wirt glared at Greg blabbering on and on, and he reached over to squeeze some hand sanitizer and rub them on his palms. The scent of aloe vera was welcoming to him.

“Ok, bye Mom.” Sara hung up and turned to Wirt. “Sorry, Wirt. I gotta get going already.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Oh yeah, it’s cool.” Sara stood up and grabbed her textbook. “Looks like she’s running late tonight so she wants me to get back home and cook dinner early.” She strapped her backpack over her shoulder and looked back at Wirt again. “So, Starbucks tomorrow after school? We good?”

“Oh, umm, yeah.” Wirt nodded, scratching the back of his neck. The heat in his cheeks had simmered down. “Yeah, I’ll meet you there.”

“Cool! Well…” Sara waved and began to walk away. “See ya later!”

Wirt lifted his hand and murmured, “Smell ya later.”

As Sara left through the large sliding glass doors of the entrance and came out of Wirt’s line of vision, he slumped back into his chair and sighed.

“Wirt, you tricked me! So you _are_ going on a date with Sara?”

Wirt’s eyes widened in alarm when he realized Greg was still there, looking curious and excited as always.

“I-it’s not a date!” he stuttered. “We’re just gonna study together, that’s all.” He crossed his arms. “Just a casual last minute meet-up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have made our frog hunt tomorrow instead. And Sara could have come with us after your date!”

“Nope, nope, absolutely not.” Wirt shook his head, leaning forward and glaring at Greg. “First of all, again, it’s not a date. Second, I told you to not embarrass me in front of Sara, and you promised me you wouldn’t. And look what you did! Running your mouth again!” He groaned and rubbed his temples. “You’re lucky I managed to shut you up before you could completely ruin everything…”

“You still got a date with her, though. Isn’t that what you want?”

“How many times do I have to say it? It’s _not_ a date. And besides…” Wirt planted his face on the cold wooden surface of his desk. “She probably has her eyes on that heartthrob Jason Funderberker…” The last two words trailed off into a disgruntled mutter.

“Why don’t you just tell Sara that you like her first?”

Wirt lifted his head, his chin still resting on the table, and stared at Greg with an unamused expression. “You clearly just don’t get it, do you?”

Greg simply tilted his head and quirked his eyebrow up with a puzzled look. Wirt grabbed his book, opening it back up to where he last left off. “Just go do your stupid frog research and leave me alone. I’ve got one more hour left of my shift.”

“Ok then, Wirt! I’ll come back later.” Greg was about to finally leave before tacking on, “I’m excited for our frog hunt!”

As Greg left, Wirt leaned back in his chair and glared up at the ceiling. Stupid Greg, nearly screwing everything up like usual…

Then, it hit him again. He and Sara were actually going to spend time together, just the two of them. Alone. Without that Jason Funderberker.

A small, wistful smile crept up his lips. Maybe this day had a silver lining after all.

* * *

6:00 PM.

Beatrice shut the front door of her car, slumping in the driver’s seat and tossing her uniform and apron in the backseat. She could feel the sweat on her forehead and almost gagged at the faint odors of grease and oil that lingered on her hair. Quickly, she thrust her key in the ignition and the engine roared to life, along with the refreshing current of cold air radiating from the AC. Content, she leaned further back in her seat and shut her eyes.

Thank god.

A couple minutes later, a light tapping snapped Beatrice back up. Lorna opened the door and slipped into the passenger’s seat.

“I’m so sorry.” Lorna let out a restrained sigh. “Catherine was taking way too long in the restroom.”

“Ugh, as usual,” Beatrice muttered. “Her selfies can wait, and besides, who’d wanna take selfies in a restroom that constantly stinks like ass? Especially if she’s just showing off the same basic makeup.”

“That’s just the way she is,” Lorna replied, following up with a cough. She buckled her seatbelt.

“How in the world are you able to stay so patient with her?”

“I guess that’s just how I am.” Lorna shrugged. Beatrice hummed in response as she buckled her own seatbelt. She kind of wished she had that level of enduring patience.

_I know patience isn’t your strongest quality––_

_Nope, not gonna think about that now._

“You sure you’re alright with me dropping you off at the pharmacy? I can wait for you and––”

“It’s really no problem,” Lorna interrupted. “My house is only a five minute walk from the pharmacy. I don’t want to trouble you any more than I already have.”

“Well, okay...but can you at least text me when you get back so that I know you’re safe?”

“Of course, I will. Wow, look at you. Being motherly to me, huh Bea?” Lorna giggled.

“Hey, come on now…” Beatrice shyly looked away. “Gotta look out for each other, y’know?”

“I know.”

Beatrice smiled before she picked up her phone and quickly typed out a text to Maddie.

‘ _Hey coming over in 15 min._ ’

She dropped her phone back onto her lap before driving out of the parking lot. Sunset was approaching, signaled by the shades of red and orange that colored the sky and tinted the clouds. The roads were relatively busy, with incoming cars heading home to their families or to restaurants right around the dinner rush. The streetlights were still starting to wake up with their dim golden glow.

“So, any luck with college apps?” Lorna asked.

Beatrice’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. Oh boy, another elephant in the room to address. “Not even close. I mean, I _know_ what to do. It’s just…” She hesitated.

“Did you talk with your parents about your options?”

“Believe me, I’ve considered trying to bring it up. But you know them…” Beatrice stopped at the upcoming red light. In a mocking motherly tone, she continued, “‘Beatrice, it would be best if you stayed close to home for college. Think about the money we could save, think about our family, blah blah blah.” She groaned. “They’d throw a fit if I even attempted to tell them that I wanted otherwise.”

The light turned green, and she moved her car forward.

“I just wanna get out of this godforsaken town. I wanna live life anywhere that _isn’t_ here. I don’t care what it is, even if I have to move to some secluded part of the woods in the East Coast or in the big city or in the middle of nowhere in Oregon or whatever. I just…” She sighed. “I can’t take it here anymore, Lorna. I’ve already reached my limit.”

“Oh, Beatrice,” Lorna replied, her tone soft and sympathetic.

“It’s fine. I’ll figure it out...eventually.”

In what felt more like two minutes instead of five minutes later, they had arrived at the middle school parking lot. Standing by the school entrance was Maddie, dressed in her volleyball uniform and staring down at her cell phone, her sports bag slung over one shoulder and her backpack over the other. Pulling up to the curb, Beatrice honked her horn, alerting Maddie of her presence.

“You know,” Maddie said, her voice dripping with snark, after she opened the door, “you could have just _texted_ me that you were here like any normal person would.” She slid into the backseat and dropped her belongings next to her.

“Ehh, too lazy.”

“I’m on my phone a lot, Bea. I can _see_ your messages.”

“Honking the horn only takes a second to do. Typing out a message takes like...five at most? I ain’t got time for that.”

“Weirdo,” Maddie mumbled. Beatrice shot an icy glare over her shoulder, even though Maddie had returned her attention to her phone, before leaving the parking lot. Beatrice loved Maddie, but man, if she didn’t get on her nerves sometimes with that level of sass…

After she said goodbye to Lorna and dropped her off at the pharmacy, Beatrice checked her phone. Past 6:30.

Her stomach gave a low growl that made her wince.

“Sounds like you got a dinosaur in there.”

“Shut up.” Beatrice shifted the gear back into drive. “Come on, let’s get some milkshakes before we go home.”

“Ok––”

“You’re paying for your own, though.”

“Wow, rude. Do I look like I’m made of money?”

“You wanna be stranded here instead?”

“...Fine, you win.”

In another five minutes, they arrived at the ice cream shop.

“Ugh…” Beatrice trudged out of the car with her phone and wallet in hand.

“Someone’s in a really good mood,” Maddie said as she stepped outside.

“Wow, clever observation.” Beatrice closed the door and locked the car, a loud beep sounding from the vehicle.

“Ok, if you’re that snappy at me, then that _definitely_ means something’s up.”

Beatrice sighed. Out of all her siblings, hell, even out of everyone in her family, Maddie was the only one who knew her way too well.

“I’m just exhausted, Maddie. I’m at my tipping point of ‘trying to tolerate the boredom and bullshit that is my life on a daily basis.’” 

“Oh boy, here we go again…” Maddie muttered. They started walking towards the ice cream shop.

“I can’t stand it. My teachers, my manager, Mom and Dad...constantly nagging me about my life choices. Beatrice, you should be more responsible. Beatrice, I know you’re better than this. Beatrice, you should take things more seriously. Beatrice this, Beatrice that. What do they think I am? Ten years old?” Beatrice threw her arms up in the air in frustration. “I _know_ what I’m doing! Why can’t they just mind their own business?”

When they arrived at the entrance, Beatrice yanked the door open a little too forcefully. A tiny bell tinkled from above, and a burst of refreshing, sweet-smelling air swept over her face. Maddie looked up at her.

“Sorry,” Beatrice muttered.

“Wow, I underestimated you today,” Maddie said before stepping inside. Beatrice pursed her lips and headed towards the counter to order their milkshakes. 

“Being seventeen in a backwater town like this just sucks,” she said as they left the shop with their milkshakes in hand. “It’s stifling. There’s nothing to do here. Everyone acts like they’re stuck in the previous century or even earlier. It’s _boring_.” She took a sip of her milkshake, the sweet and frosty strawberry cream overwhelming her taste buds. She hissed when the brainfreeze settled in ten seconds later.

“If you don’t like it, then why can't you just leave when you have the chance?” Maddie asked. Irritated, Beatrice glared at her, but Maddie stared back, undaunted yet sincere. Beatrice’s face softened and she released a tired breath.

“Maddie, you’re not gonna understand until you’re older, but…” Another sip. “It’s not as easy as just standing up, packing your things, and driving on the highway into the sunset to start a new life like it is in those sappy romcoms or whatever. I can’t do that, no matter how much I want to.”

“Maybe if you tried to actually talk with Mom and Dad––”

“Ha! You think _they’d_ be cool with that? You know how they’re like. They’re stubborn as hell.”

“Then you really take after them, huh?”

Beatrice paused before she flashed a deadpan glance at Maddie, who continued staring at her with a nonchalant expression as she drank her own milkshake. “You know, for someone who’s approaching puberty, you’re acting way too smart right now.”

Maddie shrugged.

As the two of them headed back to the car, Beatrice’s thoughts started to run wild again. Sure, she might never be able to escape this town. But...what if she could? What would a life beyond here even be like?

Sure, she always made fun of those cheesy romantic comedies for being, well, cheesy. But even she couldn’t help being entranced with the glamorous pleasures of big city life depicted on the screen, or in books or tourist guides or traveling vlogs. From spacious museums to gigantic shopping outlets to bustling carnivals on the pier. Even the more mundane activities like eating brunch at a fancy café or soaking up the afternoon sunlight on the beach were more fascinating than whatever she was doing here now.

Maybe one day she could achieve that dream, but what if that day never came? Was she doomed to be stuck here, wallowing away in bitterness over a lost cause?

As she opened the car door, she hesitated before she turned around. She took a deep breath.

“Someday, someday I’ll get out of here!” she yelled at nothing in particular, nothing but parked cars and the twilight backdrop. “Away from this hellhole, away from everyone here! Whatever it takes, I won’t let anything stop me!”

Then, she stepped into the car and slammed the door, releasing a heavy breath. She glimpsed behind at Maddie, who shook her head.

“You hopeless idiot,” she mumbled.

Frowning, Beatrice stuck her milkshake in her cup holder before fumbling for her key and sticking it in the ignition.

“Shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you wanna stay updated on my fics or just wanna chat with me, check out my [tumblr](https://221bdisneystreet.tumblr.com/) and my [twitter](https://twitter.com/mirmirthepanda). anyways, thank you for your support again! love you all!! <3


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